


Necessary Anger

by LilyAngorian



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: And I am having a hard time not shipping Tommy with everyone, And therefore an implied tendency towards incest??, Arguing in an empty room of The Garrison, Basically their relationship is tempestuous, Because this bloody show, F/M, Mild spoilers for previous episode, Set during the scene in the pub S2 ep2, Sexual tension?, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2470832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyAngorian/pseuds/LilyAngorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Polly has her gun out again, and it's pointed at Tommy. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necessary Anger

It had only taken a glance, a cold glare at the lad's clutching hand at her waist, to have him backing away from her, mumbling an apology. Pol lingered for a moment, frozen amongst the crowds of people crammed into The Garrison, knowing all too well that the words were not meant to soothe her. Tommy waited for the faintly slurred shouts, for the slap against his cheek, for the barrel pressed to his temple. But she did not so much as look at him, instead swaying through the doors into the empty room beyond. Tommy followed, warning Arthur to keep others out of their way for a while, until things had calmed down.

Pol was stood in the near darkness, rubbing the ash that remained of Grace's letter between her thumb and forefinger, slowly letting it fall across the table. "She loved you. Probably still does. We're all of us fools in that respect." She took her gun out of her bag, and pointed it wearily at him. "You made me look pathetic out there. Apologise."

The dim candlelight caught her slender frame, her dress clinging to her in a way which suggested far too much for Tommy's liking. But then, he supposed, that was natural. She had raised him after all, and he couldn't bear the thought of boys pawing at the fabric as they touched her. Running their hands through her hair, laying their lips across hers.

"Pol, that gun isn't a toy. You can't keep turning it on your family, especially not me. People will think I can't keep you under control."

He knew immediately that it had been the wrong phrasing. He saw her body tense, mouth twitch with disgust, fingers shift for a better grip on the trigger.

"Have I wounded your pride Thomas? Reminded you that you're human like the rest of us? You forget that while you walk about these streets with your head held high and Arthur straining on his leash beside you, Ada gets attacked for your foolishness and I'm left waiting for you to come home, bruised and bleeding like a fucking whore." 

She continued, her voice terse with anger "You don't control me. I don't care who the hell you think you are now. It wasn't too many years ago I had you bare arsed over my knee when you disrespected me like that." 

Tommy smirked at that, shaking his head slightly as he dug his hands into his pockets. They were memories he could conjure with little difficulty. The days where she would have to force anger as she berated him, and take on an almost gentle manner afterwards. You don't want him going soft, he had overheard the neighbours say to her once. She had always cared too much.

"I'm getting concerned about you Polly. You've shouldered a lot of responsibility keeping the business going. Maybe you should learn to relax, spend some time in your new home, make some friends. I'm sure we can manage things alright without you for a while."

He didn't mean it of course, but there were times he couldn't help but provoke her. Watch her lose control. He often privately thought that ever since him and Arthur had gone off to fight, Pol was only ever really alive when she was angry. And Tommy needed her alive.

She stalked towards him, roughly forced the barrel into his chest and leaned in towards his ear. "You're losing Thomas, and you're not going to survive this time. And everyone you love, everyone who loves you, they're going to suffer for it."

She pulled away, her voice quieter "If you ask me the girl was more clever than I gave her credit, making a life for herself away from you and this bloody mess." 

At that he took a firm hold of her wrist and attempted to take the gun. She likely wouldn't shoot deliberately, but he'd just had the place redecorated and he didn't want stray bullets embedded in the furniture. She kept it tightly gripped in her hand, but let her arm fall slowly to her side, watching him carefully.

"Well, nobody asked you Polly. You can keep your bitterness to yourself."

"Worst of all, you actually loved her. You let her into our lives like she was the only one who had ever shown you affection. Weak and stupid, blindly chasing after a liar because you can't resist your cock."

This last was spat bitterly towards him, and she finally saw a flicker of reaction in his eyes. He had got what he wanted, the final rise that told him that she was still fighting, still protecting him in her own way.

His right hand pressed against her shoulder, pushing her resistant frame back towards the wall and inadvertently brushing the top of her dress aside slightly, as his left hand twisted the gun from her hold.

Perhaps she needed this too, the show of emotion breaking through his cultivated composure, drawing out a response that had them skin on skin.

Her breath was warm against his neck, face quite unflinching, eyes full of searing hostility. She watched him tuck the gun into the waist of his trousers, standing just too close for comfort, his expression hard to read.

"What you going to do now Thomas? Send me home in disgrace? Let all your anger out on some cheap whore, burying her face in the sheets so you can pretend it's Grace..." 

He pulled his hand away from her, leaned his palm against the wall behind, their faces inches apart. "You'll want to stop talking now Pol, before you say something you regret."

She finally slapped him, hand meeting the aching bruises that lined his cheek. 

They stood there. His marble facade and her blazing defiance. 

They lingered too long. The moment passed.


End file.
